by Miranda Lee
Fran swept back in eventually, carrying a set of keys and two hand-drawn maps.
“Mission accomplished,” she said, dumping everything in Zoe’s lap then perching up on the edge of her desk. She looked very satisfied with herself. “Nigel, the dear, generous boy, never asks any awkward questions. Just handed these over and said he hoped everything would work out for you. Actually, you’re not the first female in crisis I’ve sent up there and they all spoke highly of the place afterward.”
“What’s it like?” Zoe asked.
“Never been myself. It isn’t called Hideaway Beach for nothing, and peace and quiet is not my bag. Neither is the sun, sea and surf. I can’t swim, for starters, and I burn like mad. Anyway, Nigel said to tell you the kitchen cupboards, freezer and wine rack are all stocked up and to help yourself. There’s also a gas station and general store half a mile down the road which fortunately has a liquor license. It has practically everything you might need. Fresh bread every day, milk, cigarettes, chocolates, condoms.”
“Very funny, Fran,” Zoe said dryly. “I don’t think condoms are going to be high on my shopping list.”
“Well, you never know. His only warning is for you to leave before three this afternoon as after that the traffic heading north on a Friday afternoon would give blood pressure to a corpse. And he suggests you get up very very early on the Monday morning rather than try to drive back on the Sunday evening, for the same reason. You do still have your car, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, of course I do, but…”
“I know exactly what you’re going to say. You don’t finish here ‘til six at the earliest on a Friday afternoon, since you have a slave driver of a boss who never knows when to quit. But just this once, I’m going to give you an early mark, starting right now. After all, we females should stick together. Can’t have the males of the species thinking they have us taped, can we?”
Zoe didn’t know what to say.
“No need to thank me,” Fran said, laughing at her girl Friday’s dumbfoundedness. “I’ll work your butt off next week to make up for it.”
Zoe smiled wryly. She didn’t doubt it. Her boss was a workaholic if ever there was one. “If Drake rings here or contacts you, you won’t tell him where I am, will you?”
“I’ll just say you asked for the afternoon off, you’ve gone away for the weekend but I don’t know where. Now don’t forget to turn your cell phone off as well. Or better yet, don’t take it with you.”
“I always take it in the car with me for safety reasons and emergencies. But I’ll definitely leave it turned off all weekend.”
“Excellent.”
When Zoe stood up with the map and the keys in hand, she was struck with a moment’s doubt. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Maybe Drake will get angry and dump me.”
“If he does, then he doesn’t really love you, does he?”
“You’re right.”
“Off you go now. And have fun.”
Zoe didn’t think that was likely. But she smiled. “Thanks again, Fran.”
Fran smiled back. “My pleasure.”
3
MELINDA WAS HOME WHEN Zoe let herself into the apartment. Not an unusual occurrence, even at two on a Friday afternoon.
Melinda was what was often cattily termed a rich bitch. But that wasn’t strictly true. Sure, her father had given her this fully furnished two-bedroom apartment for her twenty-first birthday a couple of years back, but it was no palace, or penthouse.
It was, however, near new, with plush gray carpet, white walls and the sort of sleek modern clean-lined furniture which Zoe loved, so different from the clunky heavy wooden furniture filling the farmhouse back home.
Actually, on the market today, Melinda’s place would have sold for close to half a million. No doubt about that. Even the grottiest apartment in Milson’s Point was worth a packet.
Melinda was a very lucky girl to have received such an expensive present. Unfortunately, despite her darling daddy being a racehorse-owning billionaire, the day Melinda received the keys to the apartment, her allowance had been cut off.
“I’ve given you a roof over your head and that’s all I’m going to do from now on,” her father had bluntly announced at the time. “If you want to feed and clothe yourself in future you’ll have to get a job. Your brother had to make good on his own after twenty-one. I see no reason why you shouldn’t do the same, just because you’re female. You girls wanted equality. Well, now you’ve got it!”
Despite not having any practice at the art of supporting herself—she had done absolutely nothing since leaving school except socialize and shop—Melinda had risen to the challenge with gusto. First, she’d rented out the other bedroom in the apartment—Zoe was not Melinda’s first roommate—then set about finding work as a model. She wasn’t really qualified for anything else, and had no intention of serving in a store or working as a waitress. She wasn’t tall enough for catwalk modeling at only five-eight, but her long blond hair, sultry face and cup-C breasts gave her plenty of work doing photographic modeling for fashion catalogs, especially those of the lingerie variety.
Modeling, however, was just a stopgap. Her ultimate ambition was to marry someone far richer than her father.
But not for some years yet. At twenty-three, Melinda was concentrating on having fun.
And have fun Melinda did! Although Melinda had a steady boyfriend named Ron, she also went out a lot without him. Parties. Premieres. Gallery openings. The races. You name it, if she was asked, Melinda went. And with her looks and social contacts, she received a lot of invitations.
Zoe found her a delightful roommate. Always bright and cheery, and not at all lazy around the place. Which was a surprise, since Melinda had obviously been spoiled rotten as a child. But she liked and valued beautiful things and treated her own little home and her possessions with great respect. Open her closet or drawers any day, and all her lovely things would not only be beautifully arranged, but spotlessly clean. As was the apartment. She never dropped her clothes on the floor, or left dirty crockery around.
Best of all, Melinda didn’t smoke. A rare breed, Zoe had found after sharing places with various other girls over the last few years. Most of them smoked like chimneys. It was so pleasant to come home to nice-smelling rooms, even when all the windows had been shut all day.
When Zoe walked in, Melinda was perched up on one of the white kitchen stools, carefully painting her fingernails at the black granite breakfast bar. She was dressed in traffic-stopping short-shorts and a cropped top, both blue. Melinda just loved blue in clothes. And why not? The color suited her blond hair and blue eyes.
“Good grief!” she exclaimed when she saw Zoe. “Have I lost track of time? Don’t tell me it’s gone six. Ron’s picking me up at seven and I’ve only just started getting ready!”
“Don’t panic. It’s only twenty past two.”
“Thank God. But that’s silly daylight-saving time for you! You never know what time it is by looking out the window. So what are you doing home? You can’t be sick. You never get sick. You’re not sick, are you?” she asked, peering more closely at Zoe whilst she flicked her nails dry. “You do look a bit stressed.”
“No. I’m not sick. Fran gave me an early mark.”
“You’re kidding me. Commandante Phillips let you come home early and you’re not even sick!”
“Nope.” Zoe walked over, dumped her bag on the counter and switched on the electric jug.
Melinda eyed her warily. “This is very strange. So what’s up? Was there a bomb scare at the office? Some disgruntled husband whom your boss screwed over in court?”
“Nothing like that.”
“Then what? The mind boggles over what earth-shattering catastrophe could have led to such an unlikely occurrence.”
“Come now, Mel, Fran’s not that bad. She’s just a hard worker.”
“She works you hard. That I know.”
“But she appreciates the job I do, and she
pays me well.”
“Huh.”
“You just don’t like her, do you? Yet you’ve only met her once.”
“Once was enough. That woman is tough as an old boot. Maybe that’s what’s needed to be a top divorce lawyer these days, but I sure as heck wouldn’t want to be married to her.”
Although Zoe thought Melinda was being a bit harsh, her comments brought home the fact that perhaps Fran hadn’t been the best person to go to for advice over her dilemma with Drake. Fran was pretty cynical when it came to her views on life, men and sex. She’d accused Zoe of being a romantic idealist, but Zoe didn’t think it was unreasonable to expect the man you loved and who said he loved you, to be faithful.
“For pity’s sake, are you going to tell me why you’re home early,” Melinda burst out impatiently, “or are you just going to stand there for the rest of the day, staring into space?”
“I don’t have much time,” Zoe said, popping two slices of bread into the toaster. “I have to be packed and gone by three and I’m in desperate need of some food first.”
“Packed? Gone by three? This is getting curiouser and curiouser.”
“If you want to know all the grisly details, then don’t interrupt,” Zoe warned, already sensing that Melinda wasn’t the right person to ask for advice, either. She just didn’t take life and love seriously enough.
Melinda’s big blue eyes rounded with even more gleeful curiosity. “Grisly details! Oooh. Do tell. Sorry,” she said swiftly when Zoe threw her a baleful glance. “I won’t say another word.”
And she made a zipping gesture across her mouth.
Zoe rolled her eyes at her friend’s pitiful attempt at a chastened face. This was going to be a total waste of time, but Melinda wouldn’t give her any peace ‘til she knew the ins and outs of everything. Just like June at work. And Betty back home.
Zoe supposed most women had a natural affinity for talking and gossiping. But she didn’t. She’d always been more of a thinker than a talker. An introvert, as opposed to Melinda’s extrovert nature. The good communication and social skills she now possessed hadn’t come naturally. They’d been acquired. With a lot of practice and hard work. By nature, she was quite shy. And private. And particularly possessive about her inner most feelings.
Sometimes, Zoe felt that the person she now projected wasn’t the real Zoe at all. Occasionally, when she looked in the mirror, she still saw the fat, shy tongue-tied teenager she’d once been.
“Zoe, for pity’s sake!”
“Yes, yes, I’m just wondering where to start.”
“Anywhere will do. Just start!”
Telling Melinda all the gory details took Zoe less time than it had to tell Fran, possibly because she wasn’t sobbing hysterically anymore. Frankly, her overriding emotion now was just plain anger.
“I don’t believe it,” Melinda blurted out when Zoe had finally finished the sordid tale. “Drake cheated on you with some blond piece, just because she had a ‘Bay-watch’ bustline? That doesn’t make sense. I mean, not once, in all the times he’s come here, has he ever given me the eye. And I’m a crash-hot-looking blonde with very nice boobs.”
Zoe smiled a wry smile. Melinda never let modesty get in the way of self-praise.
“Let’s not forget Drake has actually confessed here, Mel,” Zoe reminded her ruefully. “But of course, it was only just sex,” she added with extra tartness. “And the woman threw herself at him. Practically tore off the poor darling’s clothes. He was feeling like a bit of action and he couldn’t help himself. She meant nothing to him at all.”
“Well, I could have told you that. Drake’s crazy about you.”
“So he keeps telling me. But explain it to me, Mel. I mean, have you ever met some guy when you were crazy about someone else, but fancied this new guy so much that you just had to go to bed with him right away?”
“But of course! When I met Ron I was going out with Wayne who was a right hunk, I can tell you. But once I met Ron, I dropped Wayne like a shot.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “Yes, but you weren’t in love with this Wayne, were you?”
Melinda shrugged. “I guess not. Which is just as well,” she added with a wicked grin. “Because Ron’s much better in the sack.”
“Oh, you’re hopeless. You never take anything seriously.”
“And you, Zoe Simons, take life much too seriously. Look, for what it’s worth, I agree with your boss for once. I think you should forgive Drake. Give him another chance. It’s not as though he kept on with the blonde after he came back from the conference, did he? And she must live in Sydney to show up at the Rockery.”
Zoe took a bite of her toast, munching it thoughtfully before swallowing. “No, I don’t think she comes from Sydney. Drake was far too shocked at seeing her. I think she might have just been here for a visit. That old chap she was with could have been her father.”
“Okay, dump him then. Whatever makes you happy.”
“But that won’t make me happy, will it? I’m going to be utterly wretched and lonely without him.”
“Rubbish! You’re one hot-looking babe. You’ll find another guy in no time, especially if you start coming places with me. You’ll have so many gorgeous men hitting on you, you won’t know which one to date first.”
“But I don’t want to date some other guy,” Zoe said frustratedly. “And I don’t care how gorgeous he is! I just want things the way they were. With Drake.”
Melinda sighed an exasperated sigh. “Okay, give him another chance, then. But if you’re going to do that, then what’s the point of going away all by yourself up to some remote beach for the weekend? You might as well stay here, tell Loverboy you forgive him when he shows up tonight, then spend all weekend in the sack making up.”
Zoe cringed at the thought. How could she possibly go to bed with Drake with the image of him and that blonde doing it in an elevator still so clear in her head? “I can’t do that,” she said, shuddering. “Not this soon. Besides, Drake doesn’t deserve to be forgiven that quickly. He deserves to suffer.”
Melinda frowned at her. “That doesn’t sound like you, Zoe. That sounds more like your boss. She’d be right into suffering. Bet she and her lawyer hubbie are into S & M in private. You know, bondage and black leather and stuff. But he’d be the one tied up and she’d have the whip. You could count on that.”
Zoe stared at her roommate, shocked. “Don’t be silly. Normal people don’t do things like that.”
“Don’t you believe it. Lots of normal-looking people are right into S & M. Or some form of it. Hasn’t Drake ever wanted to tie you up?”
“Of course not!” The very idea! She’d had enough trouble just getting naked with him. The prospect of being naked and tied up sent a shudder of revulsion all through her, especially the thought of Drake looking at places she couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at without her being able to move or cover herself up.
“Ron’s always wanting to tie me up,” Melinda confided blithely. “I might let him one day.”
“Are you crazy? What if he…you know…did things you didn’t want him to do?”
Melinda pulled a face. “Yeah, you’re right. You’d have to trust a guy a hell of a lot to let him tie you up. And I’m not sure I trust Ron enough for that yet. I think I’ll tie him up instead,” she said, grinning. “Now that would be almost as much fun.”
Zoe shook her head. “You’re mad.”
“Mad and bad,” Melinda joked. “You should take lessons. Now, if it was me going away for the weekend after my boyfriend screwed some other female, I wouldn’t be going to some lonely old beach shack. I’d be heading for some swinging resort and looking for a bit of action myself. Yep, I’d be giving ole Drakey boy a bit of his own medicine. That’s what I’d be doing.”
“But I’m not you, am I?” Zoe said, almost wishing that she was. It must be great not to feel things so deeply for once.
“Which is just as well,” Melinda countered, “or I wouldn’t like yo
u as much as I do. Look, don’t take any notice of me, Zoe,” she went on, her smile fading abruptly. “I can be a vicious bitch sometimes. Why do you think I want to marry a man richer than my father? Because I want to show that old tightwad a thing or two. I’ll never forgive him for tossing me to the wolves like he did. If he’d wanted me to be a career girl from the word go, then why ever didn’t he say so when I was still at school? Then I could have made something of myself while I had the chance. I wouldn’t have to make a living being a clotheshorse and putting up with men’s preconceptions of me, simply because I’m an underwear model!”
Zoe stared at her friend, amazed by the wealth of very real feeling behind her outburst. She hadn’t realized Melinda’s father had hurt her so much over what he did.
“Sorry,” Melinda muttered. “You have enough problems of your own without my going off.”
“I…I didn’t realize you felt that way about your job. And I didn’t know men treated you badly because you were a model.”
Melinda shrugged. “Mostly they don’t. But I met this pathetic example of the opposite sex today when I was on a shoot and he ignored me. Treated me like I was a nobody. Yet I was standing in front of him in the sexiest black lace underwear you’ve ever seen.”
“Who was he?”
“Some self-made upstart of a millionaire who’s buying the fashion magazine I was doing the shoot for. Brother, did he think he was somebody. But my father could buy him ten times over!”
“Good-looking?”
“Yeah, I guess he was. He has the blackest of eyes and the longest eyelashes. And a great body for someone over thirty. But he was so arrogant.”
Zoe smiled. “You were attracted to him.”
“I was not!”
“Yes, you were. And your nose was put out of joint because he didn’t seem to want you.”
“Well…maybe a bit…”
“Will you be seeing him again?”
“I doubt it.”
“Will you be doing any more shoots for that magazine in the near future?”
“Next week. My agent rang me about it today. Some other girl was supposed to do it but she rang in sick and the magazine asked for me to replace her.”